Watershed
by skauble
Summary: Oliver Queen never finds his way to Metropolis, but somehow Chloe Sullivan finds her way to him.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Watershed

**Author:** skauble

**Pairing:** Chloe/Oliver

**Rating:** PG13 for now

**Summary:** Oliver Queen never finds his way to Metropolis, but somehow Chloe finds her way to him.

**Disclamer:** The characters in the fanfiction posted in this journal belong to their respective creators and/or studios, publishers, etc. Sadly, no profit is made and certainly no infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Some of my author notes are entirely skipable. I would not recommend that for these.

**One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

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**Prologue**

Chloe Sullivan had faced the end of the world. This didn't feel like that. No matter how badly her heart hurt, she wasn't arrogant enough to compare the one to the other.

No, it didn't feel like the entire world was going to end…but it felt like hers just might.

The day had started well enough. She hadn't slipped in the shower or choked on her muffin. It was always good to start the morning by not dying. After that, though, it went steadily downhill. She'd had fights with both of her best friends which was unpleasant but not unprecedented.

Her oldest friend, Clark, an alien with a bent toward the heroic, and her only girl friend who dating a man whose moral compass seemed to only point in one direction, and she was left to shore them both up while trying to eke out some kind of life for herself.

And after an evening spent in exhaustive contemplation and not a small amount of tears, she'd come to the conclusion that that was the problem. She loved both of her friends, but more and more of her life was being given over to dealing with their problems; often so they wouldn't have to.

Surprisingly, it was even worse since the two had ended their on again, off again relationship. At least when they were together she could expect them to do some of their communicating directly with each other. But ever since their last separation, they'd pulled her deeper and deeper into their convoluted attempts to keep some kind of tie between them.

Of course, Chloe knew that she was far from innocent in this. Because, at the end of the day, the fact remained that she was the one allowing this to happen. She let herself become the enabler in the tragic love story of Clark and Lana. And that, more than anything else, was what had broken her.

Earlier that day, Clark had come to her and censured her for keeping the news of Lana's pregnancy from him. She had, but it hadn't been the betrayal that Clark had implied it to be, and that was a sharp pain that she'd felt in her soul. She'd kept his secret for so long, but when someone else placed the same kind of trust in her, she was the bad guy for not simply betraying them because Clark was overly curious.

And, not long after, Lana had come to her and, in an irony so painful that she couldn't help but appreciate it even as it burned her, accused her of betraying her secret. The very opposite of the accusations Clark had leveled.

The unpleasantness had lasted mere minutes and her friends had clearly felt sorry. They hadn't meant to cause her pain and she never doubted their love. But it had hurt. It had torn at her, but she could see that they were both upset and so she had swallowed her own bruised feelings and forgave them both with a hug and a smile.

When she'd gotten home that night, there was a strange ache in her chest. In the silence it grew until it couldn't be ignored. Forcing herself to focus on the feeling, she realized that she was still battered by the day's happenings; still holding on to the pain of the blame that had been carelessly cast upon her.

It made her wonder why she had smiled, why she had hugged, why she had let them believe that everything was okay when it clearly wasn't. Why hadn't she said something? Why had she just pushed her feelings aside so that they didn't bother anyone else? When did she become this person who thought that her life held less significance than those around her; that it was somehow worth less attention, less concern?

Those questions all had answers; answers that she knew. She'd hidden from them for so long that it was almost impossible to let them see the light of day. But, finally, there was nowhere left to hide, and she was so tired and so drained that she couldn't even muster the effort.

She was always treated as an ancillary concern in her friend's lives. Not because they didn't love her, but because she allowed it. For so long she'd thought of herself as secondary; from the years thinking that her mother had abandoned her to watching Clark pass her over for Lana, again and again, even when he believed that he could never have her. Those perceived abandonments were, by no means, built on the malicious actions of the people in her life, but simply the result of a string of unfortunate events combined with the endless trauma inherent to life in Smallville.

And, having convinced herself that she wasn't worthless, but simply worth less, she'd arranged her life accordingly. She'd let Clark know, not so long ago, that she still had feelings for him, and yet he came to her with all of his Lana issues; not because he was cruel, but because she never told him to stop. And she wasn't sure why. Her heart screamed at her to quiet him. When he sought advice for his troubled sex life she thought she might shatter into a thousand pieces. But she let it go on, and on…and on.

It was an epiphany. A terrible, crushing realization. She wasn't losing herself, she was giving herself away. Slowly, everything was falling by the wayside so that she could focus on other people; could focus on Clark.

All her life she'd wanted to be a reporter. She'd lived it, breathed it, almost died for it on far too many occasions. However, more and more, the time that she could be spending investigating leads and uncovering truths, was spent helping Clark. True, much of the help Clark needed was of the life-saving variety. But much of it was of the moping variety. Sometimes it seemed like Clark couldn't get through a day without her acting as some sort of cheerleader…or some sort of crutch.

Which had a ripple effect throughout the rest of her life. Not only did it hamper her professionally, but it practically annihilated any chance at dating. Although her feelings for Clark ran deep, Chloe wasn't masochistic enough not to try to move on. But it was amazing how few men wanted to approach a woman who seemed to be attached at the hip to their tall, incredibly handsome best friend. Even Jimmy had had reservations about renewing their relationship.

So, she recapped for her own edification, she was sacrificing her professional life, her personal life, and her heart. And the most painful of all the day's realizations became crystal clear.

It had to stop. _She_ had to stop.

She didn't need Clark to be more proactive or Lana not to be so needy or anyone else to change a thing. She was the one that needed to change. She had to remember all of the amazing things she'd planned for her life and recapture the drive to achieve them. Her friends would survive without her constant care, and if they thought that they wouldn't then they were just as messed up as she currently was.

She'd made a decision, one based solely on her needs. And she felt hopeful. And she felt bad. And she felt guilty; so very, very guilty. But once made she felt spurred into action.

She would lose her scholarships by transferring to a new school, but she'd apply for more and make up the difference with more work hours. It would be hard, but lots of people did it. Which, of course, meant a job, an apartment, and a million other things that she knew she could get when she got to-

Chloe's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. She knew who it was; had heard that exact same knock years now. For a brief moment, panic consumed her and she thought about pretending she wasn't home. Of course, that would be a practice in futility considering her visitor could hear her breathing, could see past the walls that separated them to verify that she was there. Every once in a while, she thought, it sucked having an alien for a best friend.

Too tired to fight against the inevitable, Chloe answered the door.

"Hi," Clark said as he stepped past Chloe and into the small apartment beyond. "You didn't answer when I called earlier and I wanted to make sure you were alright after everything that happened."

"I'm," she paused, knowing that if she wanted a new start it had to begin right then. "Not. I'm really not alright at all."

The words shocked Clark and he stepped towards her, finally noticing the red rimmed eyes that spoke of a prolonged bout of tears.

"Chloe?" His question was a plea – for information, for a chance to comfort her, for her to tell him that she was okay. Although he knew that it was unrealistic, he felt responsible for the people that he loved. When they hurt, he felt as if he failed them somehow. It made him ache for the state of affairs with Lana, but with Chloe…which Chloe it was even harder. Not because he loved her more, but because it was so rarely that she was the troubled one in their relationship.

Chloe Sullivan had always been sunlight and smiles. Although he'd repeatedly denied her charges of moping, he knew that he was getting to the point of taking on brooding professionally. Sometimes it was hard to remember that those roles were reversible. Chloe could hurt and he was determined to be there for her.

"It's not okay."

"What's not okay," he asked when she didn't seem inclined to continue.

With a deep, shuddering breath she looked up at him. "What happened today with us. The part where you seemed so hurt that I'd kept Lana's secret; where you looked at me like I'd betrayed you. That's not okay."

Regret cut through him at her words. He knew that he'd hurt her earlier with his implications that she should have told him Lana's secret. It had been stupid and thoughtless and as soon as she pointed out the utter hypocrisy of his question he'd been incredibly ashamed. And so when she'd hugged him and agreed to let the matter drop, he'd felt an overwhelming sense of relief. But that feeling was slowly draining away as he realized that while she'd let the matter drop, she hadn't let it go. He could see that she'd held in the pain his words had caused and, more than anything, he wanted to ease away the hurt he could see in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he told her as he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms. "I was a jerk and I'm so, so sorry."

Chloe felt strong arms surround her, drawing her into the comfort of the safest place she'd ever known. But for once she didn't let herself get lost in that feeling. Instead, using a strength she didn't know she possessed, she pressed her palms to his chest and gently extracted herself from his embrace.

She wanted to point out that he hadn't said that at the time. But, honestly, she wasn't sure that it would have made a difference and she wasn't petty enough to want to hurt him more than she had to.

"I'm leaving."

Clark was confused. He didn't know if it was her actions or her words, but he suspected it was a combination of the two.

"Leaving?" He heard the small quaver in his voice and didn't even try to cover it. Something was wrong, terribly, horribly wrong, and he was as desperate to hear what it was so he could fix it as he was to block it out so that he could deny exactly what those words could mean.

"Leaving," she confirmed. "Smallville, Metropolis, Kansas; I'm leaving them all."

His hands grasped her arms and he fought the need to pull her closer once again. "Because of what I said," he asked. "I am sorry, Chloe. I mean it. I never should have accused you. I-"

"You're right, Clark. You never should have accused me. But it's not that. Not just that," she amended. "Do you know that right after you got mad at me for keeping Lana's secret, she came in, angry with me because she thought that I sold her out to the press?"

"I'm sure she didn't mean it, Chloe. She's under a lot of stress…" His voice trailed off as he saw pain flash briefly across her face. And he was genuinely surprised. Not that he'd seen it, but that he'd acknowledged it.

Suddenly he felt vaguely ill. Chloe's feelings for him were something that they all understood, but no one mentioned. Like a topic you didn't raise in polite conversation, the crush she'd had on him for years was always studiously ignored.

Like a dirty secret.

The sick feeling grew, and something began to tighten in his chest as he realized for the first time what that must be like for her; to have her love treated like something shameful, something that needed to be denied at every turn. And the hits kept coming as he realized that it wasn't just turning a blind eye. It was far more active than that. He didn't just overlook her feelings for him; he took every opportunity to underscore the hopelessness of them.

It wasn't conscious. He knew that it wasn't. He genuinely loved Chloe and wouldn't purposefully hurt her like that. But now that he knew what to look for it was so easy to see; so incredibly, glaringly obvious. There was almost never a time when he saw her that he didn't steer the conversation to Lana at some point. He went to his best friend with every problem in his turbulent love affair, no matter how big or small. Even his love life had been fair game.

But in so many ways Chloe was his world. She knew his secret, how different he was, how abnormal, and she thought he was _amazing_. She believed in him unfailingly; supported him endlessly. She was the one constant in his life. Of course, his mother loved him like no one ever would or could, but ever since his father's death he feared that he could lose her just as easily. But Chloe seemed invincible in a way that even he couldn't be. She was clever and resourceful and she saved him frequently, even with no superpowers to call on.

They were Chloe and Clark. Almost extensions of each other, and he couldn't lose that. He couldn't take that chance. Even without Lana in the picture he wasn't sure that he ever would have been able to risk what he had with Chloe to gamble on something more. After all, it wasn't as if it was working out so well with the woman he'd pursued for years.

So he'd made sure that that avenue was buried under an avalanche of his relationship with another woman so that he wouldn't lose her. But he was losing her anyway, and the thought was practically stealing his very breath.

"I'm sorry."

The words were brimming with intensity and rife with meaning and Chloe knew that they were no longer talking about the events of the day. The look in Clark's eyes was so deep, so filled with an understanding so long sought after that she knew exactly what he was referring to.

A ghost of a smile slid across her lips because her life had so many of these moments – clarity when things had happened that couldn't be changed by regret.

"I know, Clark. I know you are."

His released her arms and his voice dulled as he recognized the truth of Chloe's words. And that her acceptance of his remorse hadn't changed her mind. "But you're still leaving."

"I am." She raised her hand and lightly stroked his cheek as if she could wipe away some of his pain. "I'm the invisible member of a love triangle that we all pretend doesn't exist. You and I have moments, but we pull away and then pretend nothing happened, because I'm afraid you'll say no and you're afraid I'll say yes.

"I love you, Clark Kent. I love you so much. You're so much more incredible then you'll ever know." Tears crested and began to fall. "But I can't keep hemorrhaging my dreams for you. I can't live my life being a satellite in your world; my whole life revolving around you."

Her voice caught and the broken sound rang like hope in his ears. She was hurting and he knew this wasn't what she wanted. He had to believe that he could find the words, the reasons to make her stay; to keep her with him.

"I can fix this," he swore. "Just give me a chance and you'll see – I can change. I can do things differently; do them right."

"No, Clark," she told him with a sad shake of her head, "you can't fix this. Because the problem isn't you. It's me. This isn't about you doing something careless or saying something that hurts. It's about the fact that I just go along with it, never rocking the boat because I'm so afraid you'll leave."

"I wouldn't-"

She didn't let him finish. "It doesn't matter if you would or you wouldn't. It's about the fact that I feel like I couldn't survive if you did.

"I'm not going because I think you'll leave me, Clark. I'm going because I need to prove to myself that I could live if you did; could live without you. I need to remember who I was before I was half of you. I have to believe that I can be happy with who I am. Just me; Chloe Sullivan."

The agony in on his face tore at her and even though she knew that she couldn't make it easier for him, she had to try.

"This isn't what I want. Believe me, this was never what I wanted. But it's what I need."

He was lost, so lost. Because he didn't have a power that could change this; he didn't have an ability that would make her happy staying with him.

"Where are you going?"

She was shaking his head even before he had finished. "I don't think that's a good idea, Clark."

"I can find you," he reminded her.

"I know. But I'm counting on you to remember that you're better than that. I'm hoping that, right now, you can be the friend that I need."

"This isn't forever," he asked as he felt his own tears start to build.

"No," her promise was a sob. "Not forever; never that."

Clark knew that he was only seconds from begging her to stay, and he also knew how unfair that would be. He believed her when she said that she needed this and he also knew that she was probably better off away from his increasingly complex relationship with Lana, who he knew in his heart he was going to fight for. So he swallowed his pleas, nodded his acceptance of her vow, and sped from the room, tearing across the countryside as if he could outrun his pain.

* * *

As she closed the lid of another box, Chloe gave thanks that she owned so little. She'd packed what she needed to take with her in her tiny car and boxed up the rest for Lois, who had promised to let her store it until she got settled.

Her cousin had been an angel. Lois had been saddened by her abrupt departure, but having had a ringside seat for Chloe's heartbreaking yearning for Clark, she had agreed that maybe a fresh start was just what was needed.

Surprisingly, given her track record, everything else had fallen into place with little difficulty. Jimmy had been very understanding of her breaking off their budding relationship, and they had parted as friends and The Daily Planet had given her a good reference.

Even Lana had let her go with an amazing amount of understanding. Apparently all three of them had been aware of the unspoken dynamics of their convoluted relationship. She could see in Lana's eyes that her blessing stemmed as much from the thought of simplifying her path back to Clark as it did with a genuine sympathy for someone she truly considered a sister. But Chloe couldn't blame her for that. How could she fault Lana for loving Clark when she so desperately did herself?

As she stood and surveyed the life that she'd packed away, she reached for her keys and the map that would lead her to Star City. Through the pain she felt a sliver of excitement and she wondered if maybe this wasn't the end of her world. Maybe it was just the beginning.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

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**Chapter One**

Chloe chased a lot of stories through darkened alleyways in her life. So it wasn't the location necessarily that was bothering her; it was that she was waiting in one with no article to be wrung from the experience. Which, frankly, she felt was a waste of her time, talent, and a fairly atmospheric alley.

With a small sigh she looked back towards the bright lights of the Star City Museum of Fine Arts. Large, colorful banners spilled down the massive marble columns that stood guard over the ornately carved doors. It was elegant and festive, befitting the night's celebration of the museum's 75th anniversary. And it was that very celebration that she knew would call him out, like a siren's song.

The Green Arrow.

Hero or hazard, the answers were different depending on who was questioned. To the people – poor and downtrodden – who benefitted from the apparent charitable nature of the bandit, he was their champion. Especially at a time when helping hands were being extended with far less frequency.

But to the people who financed his good deeds he was a menace. The elite of Star City's society loathed the man for reason both obvious and less apparent. Of course theft was never appreciated by the victims. But, more than that was the fact that to the ordinary citizen, _they_ were becoming seen as the villain. The extravagances of their lives were no longer being viewed by the masses with star struck awe and envy, but rather as frivolous excess that could be used to help improve the lives of the people.

Though Chloe could see getting swept away in such a populist view, she knew it to be somewhat unfair. Many of the city's wealthy residents worked quite hard for the wealth that they had amassed. Even those who had inherited "old" money still had to labor to maintain such fortunes. And it wasn't as if they simply hid their vast wealth in their mattresses. No; they ran businesses and factories and corporations that employed thousands. And so, although she didn't believe that there was any justification for poverty in such a prosperous society, neither did she think that people should be targeted simply because of their bank accounts.

However, even though she eschewed the more popular grounds for support, she did believe in what he was doing. Not merely because of the people that he helped, but because she knew, from her own experiences, that sometimes justice needed some assistance. And what he was doing _was_ in the service of justice.

While most of the papers, and thus their reporters, focused on the Robin Hood-esqueness of the crimes and their perpetrator to boost circulation, Chloe has looked deeper into the so called victims; which inevitably led her to the items stolen…or re-stolen.

Every single item that had been liberated from their "owner" had been obtained by far less than legal means. And so, in taking the items, the Green Arrow was simply liquidating a stolen asset and using it for the enrichment of the needy instead of simply to feed the vanity of criminals wealthy enough to avoid the law.

She knew that many people would not share her view. Despite the good done with the money, there would always be those who believed that a crime, no matter the benefit to come from it, was still a crime. But having spent many years of her life breaking into both buildings and computers, and committing various other misdemeanors and felonies to advance the cause of truth and protect lives, she really wasn't in a position to judge someone for chasing their own version of that objective.

Of course, it was that very laudable pastime that led her to her current position. Once she recognized the people he was focusing on, it was very little trouble to identify those who qualified to be the recipient of his brand justice. Then it was just a matter of waiting for an event that suited his larcenous purposes and parking herself in the path of the best avenue of escape.

And while it was that reasoning that led her to the gala, it wasn't her investigative prowess that made her so certain that he would be there. No; that level of surety had more to do with the fact that she was standing next to his motorcycle. She'd seen blurred pictures of it taken during one of his outings, and the fact that it was so well hidden in the clearest path of flight confirmed for her that she was definitely in the right place at exactly the right time. With a sigh, she once again lamented the lack of story that would follow her night's work.

Not that she lacked a place to publish it. Chloe had been pleasantly and, given her life up to that point, undeniably surprised at how well her life had come together after arriving almost three months earlier in Star City.

She'd arranged for an interview with the Star City Post before her move. Hoping that she'd be able to find an open internship similar to her situation at the Daily Planet, she was shocked and flattered when they had offered her a job as a fulltime, full fledged reporter. Of course, the position was entry level, but apparently earning an internship at one of the most prestigious papers in the country, if not the world, and her acceptance into Star City University's journalism program for the next academic year carried some weight at a paper that was struggling some, despite a decent reputation.

With a steady paycheck and her limited savings, she'd been able to get a small studio apartment and have Lois send on her things. The day that they arrived, Chloe had cried for hours. Their presence, filling her tiny space, meant that it was really her home; Smallville, Metropolis, might be part of her future but they were, for the moment, part of her past.

Suddenly, she was snapped out of her thoughts by a noise above her. Looking up, she was just in time to see a shadowed figure land on the rooftop of the building she was leaning against before using some kind of cable to lower himself down to the alley and right in front of her.

A slight smile tilted her lips as she saw him stiffen in surprise, but she had to commend him on his rapid recovery as he crossed his arms across his chest as a deep and distorted voice rang out.

"While I'm usually not at all adverse to late night rendezvous with beautiful women, I'm afraid that I'm somewhat pressed for time."

Chloe heard the sirens in the background. Although the Green Arrow's victims generally refused to press charges given the origins of their missing property, there were some venues – such as prestigious museums, that would take the decision out of their hands.

"Well, as flattering as it is to be a candidate for your back alley booty call, I'm actually here on business."

"Reporter," he guessed as he moved towards his bike. "Sorry, I don't do interviews."

"Good," she said as she, too, moved towards the motorcycle between them. "Because I'm here to provide information, not collect it."

The sound of the sirens grew louder and Chloe could see that he was considering simply moving her out of the way and making his escape.

"Look, I'm not standing here for the scenery; I have something that you're going to want to hear. I found you once and I can find you again, so you might as well just accept the inevitable."

She watched as his head tilted to the side and even thought she couldn't see his eyes, she knew that he was sizing her up. A small smirk was the only warning that he had reached a decision before he reached out and pulled her forward and, in an astounding show of agility, managed to have seated them both on his bike, her behind him, all in one fluid movement.

"Hold on," she heard him call out and, being used to Clark's bursts of speed, she managed to tighten her hold just in time for them to shoot forward onto the main road and move quickly away from the police fast approaching from the other direction.

Glad that her bag was trapped between them and not lost along the roadside, Chloe could focus on holding on for dear life as they wove in and out of traffic before the bike finally rolled to a stop in another alley, this one across from Star City Memorial Hospital, on the opposite side town as the museum.

Scrambling off the bike with as much dignity as she could muster, Chloe turned to face the leather clad vigilante. His still present smirk made it clear that some of his reckless race through the city streets was for her benefit. Rolling her eyes as such testosterone laden behavior, she gave into the curiosity that had been burning through her since she'd first seen him.

"So, get anything good?"

With a small flourish he reached behind his back and returned with a necklace. Even in the dim light that surrounded them, Chloe could clearly see the diamonds surrounding emeralds of various sizes, and she couldn't help the swell of satisfaction she felt staring at seeing the very necklace she had pegged as the one that would draw out the Green Arrow that night.

"Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. Quite the hero."

"Not everyone thinks so," he told her. "What makes you think that I'm not claiming my fair share of the take?"

With a laugh she answered, "Somehow I'm pretty certain that running Queen Industries is fairly lucrative. I doubt you need to steal to make ends meet."

He was good, she'd give him that. Someone with less experience in the whole dual identity thing would have missed the slight stiffening, the small intake of breath. But during the time between learning that Clark was different and his finally revealing just how much, she'd become quite familiar with the signs of someone worrying that their secret was about to come to light. Of course, the man before her was much more successful and the endeavor than Clark ever had been, but…well, who wasn't?

Before he could answer and the evasion could begin, Chloe pulled a large envelope from her bag and tossed it to him. As entertaining as she was sure his denials would be, she had neither the time nor the inclination to embroil herself in the life of yet another hero.

She knew what he saw when he opened the envelope. A picture from his last excursion. He frequently targeted high profile affairs, and while press was often quite limited, they did manage to catch a few photos of his exploits. Generally speaking, those were blurry and/or grainy and did much to sell papers but little to identify the subject.

However, the Green Arrow had been busy recently and had struck at the Mayor's Annual Gala just two weeks before. The television crews had done their pieces from outside the venue, but the presence of a photographer from each of the small handful of local papers inside the event made it risky in the extreme. It also made for the greatest haul as, apparently, more than one couple felt safe in flaunting their ill gotten gains with the mistaken belief that even the Green Arrow wouldn't be brazen enough to strike in the midst of such scrutiny.

Which, of course, almost guaranteed his presence.

And so, while covering the nightshift, Chloe hadn't been surprised when Matthew, one of the intern photographers sent to cover the event, came back with a camera full of pictures of the bandit's escapade. Flush with success and bursting with pride, he'd pulled Chloe over to watch as he downloaded the pictures onto his computer.

Consisting of a series of about twenty or so pictures of his escape they were, as with all photos of the Green Arrow, not particularly useful beyond feeding the media frenzy. Either fuzzy or with his face shielded by his hood, they gave no clues as to the man's identity.

Except one.

There was one shot that drew Chloe's eye back to it over and over again until she realized why, although nearly identical to those before and after, it was bothering here. Using some sort of grappling hook to leave the same way he'd entered – through the roof – he was turned at such an angle that she could see a ring on a chain around his neck that had somehow freed itself from the confines of his leather vest. It was small, but had caught the light just so, and while she knew that Matthew, who was very talented but quite inexperienced, might overlook the detail at first, he'd catch it soon, and if he didn't, then certainly their editor would.

Acting on years of instinct that never steered her wrong when she bothered to listen to it, she congratulated Matthew and told him that he needed to go to the seventh floor, where the hard hitters of the paper worked, and tell Mr. Bryant, the night editor, about his sure to be exclusive. Eager to show his value to those above him, he followed her advice. After all, although at the low end of the reporter totem pole, she was still above the interns.

As soon as the elevator doors had closed behind him, she pulled up her email account and sent herself a copy of the picture. Once done, she deleted the photo in question and replaced it with a copy of the one after it, knowing that it would simply appear that he'd double shot the moment.

She felt bad, but only for a instant. The shots that he had were a dream for the paper, and Matthew would receive a great deal of credit even without the possibly incriminating picture. Besides, Chloe could spot a hero a mile off, and she knew the Green Arrow was on the wrong side of the law, but the right side of justice.

And in the end she was glad that she'd absconded with the picture. The image of the ring was magnified and cleaned up with only minimal difficulty to show a family crest. And while family crests were plentiful and so not terribly easy to identify, it had only taken her a week to narrow down the pool of people using the crest and, from there, a few days to put all of the pieces together and follow the trail that led to the door of the heir to the Queen fortune.

The minute Oliver saw what was in the envelope, he knew that his cover was blown. The night of the mayor's gala had gone perfectly until the very last moments when one of the security guards came stumbling into the ballroom, apparently only partially affected by the gas released from the arrow he'd shot earlier to disable the group. In his hasty exit the man made a grab for him and, though he was easily dealt with, had managed to tear his suit, exposing the ring he wore, emblazoned with his family crest.

Since he hadn't seen this particular picture in any of the papers, he had to believe that she was the only one in possession of it. His first instinct was to try to bluff his way out of it, but she was right earlier when she'd said that she'd found him once and could again. He knew that she was taking a risk by searching him out and so she probably expected a large pay off for all of her work. Whether that was bigger exclusive or money, he wasn't sure, but he didn't see purpose in beating around the bush about the matter.

"That's quite a story you have there."

"I don't want the story."

While Oliver certainly didn't want to be exposed, he had to admit that he was slightly disappointed in the woman who had so far been the only person to identify his alter ego.

"You want money."

Chloe rolled her eyes at the statement even as she acknowledged that it was probably a logical assumption for him to make.

"No, I don't want your money either. I want you to be careful!"

Almost as if he needed a moment to recover from her unexpected comment, Chloe watched as he switched off what she assumed was his voice distorter and then reached up to remove his dark glasses. The confusion she could see in his eyes was reflected in his voice.

"What?"

"Look," she began with a heavy sigh, "I don't care what the police claim or the media speculates; I know you're doing good work. Important work. Even before I figured out who you were, I knew who you were targeting.

"That necklace you took earlier was Mrs. Davenport's. She claims that it's a family heirloom, and it is. Just not from her family. It was bought on the black market, along with a lot of other valuables that had been confiscated by the Nazi's during World War II. That's how I knew that you'd be there tonight because that's your MO – you take what's already been stolen and you return it to the rightful owners if possible or, if not, use it for something good for a change."

Oliver always felt good when he saw the results of his fight for the people of his city. Whether he was saving lives directly or with the money he "liberated", he liked when he heard the name Green Arrow whispered with gratitude. It wasn't why he did it; he did it because it was right, because he knew it was what his parents would have wanted, because he had his own sins to atone for. But it didn't stop him from enjoying when someone acknowledged what he strived to do.

And the woman in front of him clearly believed his mission was just. She must because she was hardly intimidating. Standing almost a foot shorter than him and not being particularly lethal in hand to hand combat if the taser he saw in her bag when she opened it was anything to go by, she was certainly taking her life into her hands by confronting an armed vigilante unless she truly thought him to be one of the good guys.

"So you didn't come to interview me and you didn't come to blackmail me. You really hunted me down to scold me?"

"Well don't you think somebody needs to," she snapped at him. Taking a calming breath she explained. "You're right about me being a reporter. I'm entry level. Almost "Get me coffee" entry level. And with one misstep I unraveled your secret."

Normally Chloe didn't play down her journalistic talent, but she knew that making her point was of primary importance. "You help a lot of people. It's not just the stealing from the rich thing; I know that you're out there on the streets at night. You save people who don't even know that they needed it. You're too important to mistake other people's incompetence for your invincibility. You need to be more careful. Don't you have someone watching your back?"

"No. Are you volunteering," he asked and nearly laughed at the horror that crossed her face.

"Good God no! The last thing I want to be is some sort of sidekick."

"So, you don't my money, don't want to be my sidekick, and you don't want a story," he summed up.

"Oh no, I want a story," she told him. "I'm a reporter; I always was a story. Just not this story."

Stepping away, Chloe closed her bag as she clarified, "I don't want to write about you, I don't want to meet with you, I don't want to hear from you. I just don't want to know you at all."

Her brow furrowed at the abruptness of her statement so she hastily tacked on, "…No offense."

"Of course not," he laughed. "What could be offensive about that?"

Watching as she prepared to leave, Oliver felt oddly reluctant to end their meeting, even though he knew that the longer he was out like this, especially after such a large job, the more he was risking exposure. But it had been a while since someone so thoroughly surprised him and he had a feeling that he'd like to know more about…

"It's rather unfair, don't you think, that you know so much about me and I don't even know your name?"

Slipping her bag over her shoulder she glared at him. "Did you not hear the part about me not wanting to know you? There are a million stories in this town that aren't you. I'm going to busy myself with those and then you won't need my name because we won't be meeting again."

Chloe made her way towards the street. They were across from the hospital, so she'd have no problem catching a cab home.

She felt bad having to be so brusque with a man that she actually quite admired, but she'd already had to leave one life behind to put herself back together. She didn't need to go recreating the same problems that she had just run from.

Oliver watched with interest as the small blonde paused before stepping onto the street and turned back towards him.

"Be careful, Arrow."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Back in his penthouse, gear safely hidden away, Oliver stretched out in bed and replayed the events of his unexpected and yet not unenjoyable meeting. It wasn't vanity, but an acknowledgement of fact that he was generally sought after by women, and even more so by the press. That someone who was a member of both groups found the thought of spending any time with him so horrifying was a novel sensation. And yet, for as much effort as she put into making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, her last words were concern for his safety.

The mysterious blond reporter had done him a great service and, in return he briefly pondered allowing her her anonymity. But he knew that even if he was willing to ruthlessly crush his curiosity – which he wasn't – it simply wasn't safe to leave such valuable information in the hands of someone about whom he knew nothing. No matter how much he believed he could trust her.

And so, he thought with a smile, maybe it was his turn to do some investigating.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Chloe was bored.

Not slightly bored, not moderately bored. Mind numbingly bored. That was the only reason for it.

She was watching Oliver Queen.

Oh, not in the stalkery way, or even in a stakeout fashion. No, she had a legitimate reason to be occupying the same general vicinity as the man. The reporter that covered the society beat was out on maternity leave and instead of assigning a new reporter fill in, all of the cub reporters were taking turns covering different events. Which was why she was currently standing in the ballroom of Elliot Caldwell, CEO of Caldwell Enterprises, being bored nearly to tears by a kindhearted elderly gentleman who was clearly the dullest person on the face of the earth.

She supposed it was her fault. She'd known that the chances were high that she'd see Queen at the night's festivities, but she hadn't really formulated a plan should he approach her. So, when she saw the recognition on his face and watched him move towards her, she'd grabbed the first person that she could find and began a halfhearted interview.

The only good thing about the maneuver, apart from dissuading the young CEO from cornering her, was that it allowed her to surreptitiously monitor his actions. Although she had meant it when she told him that she didn't want the Green Arrow story, if he was to put in an appearance at the party that she was already covering she'd have to produce some kind of article about it. Being aware of everything that was happening would at least enable her to write a story with the least likelihood of giving away any revealing information.

And, because of her vigilance, she wasn't surprised to see the subject of her scrutiny slip away out of the ballroom and head further into the private area of the house. What did surprise her, however, was that the Green Arrow had made no appearance.

After almost twenty minutes had passed, Chloe had grown concerned. The concern quickly became anxiety as she watched two of the men who were, despite their black tie dress, clearly security approach the same hallway that Oliver had previously slipped into.

Her internal battle to stay out of the matter lasted all of ten seconds before she found herself politely withdrawing from her conversation and purposefully approaching the guards.

"Excuse me," she called to them in a low voice, as if trying to avoid attention. "I don't mean to bother you, but it seems that Councilman Davidson may have had a little too much to drink and I just saw him out in the garden groping one of the Barrington Cancer Center Women's Auxiliary Committee members."

She didn't even have to embellish her story as the men turned abruptly and quickly made their way across the ballroom and out the French doors. She would have felt bad about the lie, but Councilman Davidson never met a drink he didn't like and, if past exploits were anything to go on, the chances were high that he had gotten fresh with at least one of the party guests.

Glancing into the darkened passageway there was still no sign of the absent hero. Almost certain that he was up to more than searching for a little solitude, she knew that he needed to reappear soon. Personal experience had taught her that the distractions at parties were only effective for a small window of time. After that there were fewer diversions and simply more people to notice your absence.

Grinding her teeth in frustration at both the reckless hero for taking such risks and herself for her inability to walk away, she casually stepped to the side and, once blocked from view by a large potted plant, followed in the direction she'd seen Queen go.

Seeing a heavy wood door that she assumed led to some kind of study, Chloe slowly cracked open the door. Oliver was there as she suspected, and she could clearly see his surprise in the light that the computer monitor cast on his face. He'd stood to confront her, thinking her an intruder, but she watched him sit once more as he recognized who had interrupted him.

Moving quickly to his side, she was careful to keep her voice low as she bit out, "You've been in her almost twenty minutes. Is there something specific you need or are you vacationing?"

"It's not me, it's this damn computer," he returned in a tone colored with frustration.

"Move," she told him, and was grateful as, even though he seemed rather surprised, he did as she said, allowing her to slide into the vacated seat. If she were going to be able to write up her story that night and avoid the massive headache she felt coming on, this covert operation was going to have to shift into overdrive.

Oliver watched in awe and not a small amount of irritation as his reluctant partner in crime began typing, her fingers flying over the keyboard as the computer that refused him entrance began pouring forth a river of data.

"I'm in. What do you need?"

"I'm looking for anything on a project called Espada," he told her and watched as she deftly maneuvered her way through a number of previously protected directories in search of the files he needed.

Leaning closer for a better view of the screen, he spoke close to her ear, "You certainly are a woman of many surprises, Miss Sullivan."

With a roll of her eyes and a small huff she didn't take her gaze from the screen as she continued to type. "You have a trillion dollars, I gave you my occupation, and left my fingerprints all over that photograph – I'm not impressed that you know my name."

"Which begs the question, what would impress you?"

This time she did face him as she snapped, "You not almost getting caught!" Turning back to the screen, she continued her rant. "Do you think that I'm here because the party was slow?"

"Well, the party _was_ pretty dull." But even as he pretended to ponder her question, he was caught up in the way that she seemed to coax an endless stream of what he knew to be fairly well guarded information from the computer that had confounded his attempts.

"You're quite the proficient hacker, Miss Sullivan. Exactly what kind of reporter are you?"

"The kind that's saving your ass," she grumbled, "so stop interrupting me and just keeping watching the door."

Oliver couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. Chloe Sullivan was unlike anyone he'd ever met. Although she'd made it quite clear that she simply wanted to settle into her new home and focus on her burgeoning career, she'd gone out of her way twice now to aid him. And despite the fact that exposing him would be a one way ticket to stardom for the young reporter, she'd done nothing with the knowledge of his alter ego except to alert him so that he could better protect himself. She was young and courageous, beautiful and talented, and she had a passion for justice that, although reluctantly expressed at the moment, seemed to rival his own.

She was, in short, quite fascinating.

Chloe could feel the eyes behind her drift from the screen to study her and she found it unnerving. And though she'd just admonished him to give her peace, she found that now she needed the distraction that conversation would provide.

"So, find out any interesting information about me," she asked in a tone that let him know that she understood the need to look into her past.

"Is there any other kind," he replied and it was clear that he meant it sincerely as opposed to empty flattery. "When we first met, I was surprised that you took such a risk in confronting me. But now I can see that it was probably the safest thing you've done in a decade."

"You weren't scared off by the fact that my police record might be longer than my college transcript," she asked in genuine curiosity.

"Honestly," his tone grew serious, "the only thing that bothered me was your association with Lex Luthor."

Closing her eyes briefly, Chloe fought a heavy sigh. Would she never be free of the Luthors, she wondered. "Lex and I had an alliance of necessity a long time ago."

"To bring down his father?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"And your connection to him now?"

Normally Chloe would mind the probing, but his sincere search for answers told her that he hadn't had people tear apart every bit of her past. Clearly he needed to learn more about her to judge her trustworthiness, but he stopped before prudence crossed the line into intrusion. It was a boundary that has taken her years and much heartache to recognize, so she appreciated his respect for it.

"None, really. He's marrying one of my best friends with whom, for reasons that I'm disinclined to share…ever, I am not currently in communications."

She waited to see if he'd explore further and when he didn't she asked, "You're just going to take my word for everything?"

"Apparently," he said with a shrug. "I've learned to trust my instincts."

Having finally found the files she needed, she held out her hand and he silently passed her the flash drive he'd brought. As she began the transfer she let her natural curiosity peek through. "And what do your instincts say about me?"

"Honestly," he said as he moved closer, pretending to study the screen as his eyes drifted over to observe her. "They say that you're the best damn sidekick that I've never had."

"You know," she hit a few keys as the transfer ended and she began to cover all traces of the intrusion, "I can still call for help and say I'm your hostage."

He choked on a shout of laughter as he stood. "And ruin our second date?"

"If this is your idea of a date then I'm left in no doubt as to why you remain a bachelor."

Clasping a hand to his chest as she glanced back at him he feigned hurt. "Are you saying that a night of mystery and danger isn't your idea of the perfect evening?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Arrow," she scoffed, "this is hardly the most danger I've been in on a date."

And once again he was captivated by the intrigue of her even after his investigation. "What kind of life have you lived?"

"The kind that had taught me that I don't want to be anywhere near your leather fetish."

"Oh," he moved closer again. "Which of my fetishes–"

Shutting down the computer, she stood and shoved the memory stick into his hands. "Don't finish that sentence if you want to walk out of here without a limp."

He held up his hands in surrender, but as she passed him he grabbed one of hers, bringing it up to his lips for a brief kiss.

"Thank you Chloe," he said sincerely. "I know that this was the last thing you wanted to do tonight, but you helped a lot of people."

Pulling her hand back, Chloe ruthlessly crushed the feel of his lips against her skin. She wasn't going down that road ever again. It never led anywhere good. Crossing to the door, she turned back before slipping out into the hallway.

"Just for the record, I did all the work; you were the sidekick here."

As he watched her disappear, Oliver smiled. "And the pleasure was all mine."


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk. **I mean it, guy. This is rough because I just don't have a lot of time.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

It had been a long and tiring day, but more than worth it. The story Chloe had been investigating had finally come to a head and she'd managed to expose a money skimming racket in the Parking Enforcement department which, while not a major scandal, was still government corruption and earned her editor's praise for her efforts. Now, after weeks of sleuthing, all she wanted was to go home, slip into a bath, break into a pint of ice cream, and then sink into her warm bed.

The cool evening air was invigorating and helped buoy her for the three block walk to her apartment. But just as she was getting lost in visions of the comforts of home, her arm was grabbed and she was pulled into a small alleyway. Before she could say a word, she found herself wrapped in strong arms and her feet leaving the ground and she shot upwards.

Countless trips with Clark in super-speed mode allowed her to bite back her initial panic as she realized, almost instantly, who she was with. With a graceful landing on the rooftop of the building she'd been walking past, she felt the arms around her loosen as she slid downward over a hard, leather clad body.

Chloe was honest enough to admit to a small thrill at being held close to the muscular form of Oliver Queen. It wasn't just his physical attributes though; Chloe acknowledged her weakness for heroes. But that shiver of excitement was brutally stamped out at the recollection of how incredibly clear she'd been that they were ships that we're not going to be crossing in the night.

Stepping back, she glared up into the hooded face. "You do understand that this is actually the opposite of us not seeing each other, right?"

Once again Oliver was caught off guard. He wondered if there was anything at all that could rattle Chloe Sullivan.

"I needed to talk to you."

"Seriously," her brow arched, "billions of dollars and you can't afford a phone?"

With a slightly sheepish smile he admitted, "I didn't think you'd talk to me."

"Keep trusting those instincts, Arrow," Chloe called out as she turned towards the door to the stairwell.

A heavy had fell on her shoulder and she turned back towards him, knowing that he wouldn't leave, or allow her to, apparently, until she'd heard him out.

"I need your help."

The words were stark, but they didn't need embellishment. Chloe knew that tone all too well. It meant danger. It meant that something was happening that was bigger than the people involved. It meant shelving differences and doing what was right.

"What's happening?"

Although he didn't show it, Oliver felt almost weak with relief. He would fight for justice – never stop – even if he had to do so solo. But at that moment it meant so much not to be alone. And he was grateful, almost painfully so, that he'd been right about her.

But even as he was overcome with such a wave of gratitude, his words were a question. "Come with me?"

With a small sigh she slipped her hand into the one he'd outstretched, warning, "If this is some kind of hero version of 'Come up and look at my etchings' you're going to end up with an arrow in a very painful place."

Drawing her towards him once again, he assured her, "This is business." But as his arms closed around her, a small smirk titled his lips and he couldn't resist adding, "Of course, who knows what tomorrow brings?"

And to her frustration and his relief, they were in the air before she could form a comeback.

* * *

Arriving at Oliver's penthouse, Chloe was pleased that they hadn't swung across the city's rooftops to get there. Although his driving left much to be desired for those who valued their lives, it suited her preference to remain on terra firma. And so a short ride to a private garage followed by a quick trip in a dedicated elevator found her in an incredible spacious and ludicrously expensive living room. Luckily for her, she'd stormed the Luthor palace so many times that extravagance had lost its novelty.

"What's going on, Oliver?"

Leaving briefly, he carried a folder on his return. Passing it over to her he explained, "Sardak Labs is a subsidiary of Queen Industries. Two months ago the developed something called PF352Y. It's a compound that can be aerated to create a powerful nerve gas that stimulates the pain receptors until they overload, causing such a stress to the system that their heart gives out under the artificially induced strain."

Taking a seat on the large, leather sofa, she opened the folder before asking, "I didn't know your company dealt with that kind of warfare weaponry."

He heard the wariness in her tone and was glad that he could reassure her. "We don't. They were working on creating some type of bonding agent, when a chemical was mistakenly introduced that caused the formation of the cytotoxin. Luckily no one was hurt and the project was shut down as soon as I was made aware of it."

With a satisfied nod, Chloe flipped open the file and began to read as he continued.

"Unfortunately, I didn't find out until almost six weeks after the discovery. The team leader, Dr. Vaughn, kept the project running to study ways to develop its military applications."

"But the use of nerve gas violates the Geneva Convention," she said as her brow furrowed. "Which means that it wasn't our military he had in mind."

"Very good," he congratulated. "Of course, when I found out, I fired him immediately, dismantled the project, and disposed of the compound."

"But," she asked the question she'd spent years learning to hate.

"But apparently he managed to get some out before he left. He contacted me yesterday with a demand for ten million dollars or he says that he'll release it."

Chloe's eyes flew up to his as she acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "And you think he'll follow through."

"Yeah, I do," he confirmed. "The man was developing a deplorable weapon to sell to foreign governments. I think it's safe to say that his conscience, if he has one, is thin at best."

With a resolute nod she asked him, "What can I do?"

Again, he was overcome with gratitude. He hadn't dug too deeply into her past; just enough to know that she was who she said she was and not someone out to use either Oliver Queen or the Green Arrow. Once he'd determined that she was legitimate, just a young reporter who was clever enough to learn who he was and caring enough to let him know his vulnerability, he'd closed the investigation. She'd done him a good turn, and he didn't want to reward that by decimating her privacy. But there was something in her life that had made her leery of men such as himself, and he knew that she was setting aside legitimate concerns to help him. It meant more to him than she could know.

"I'm meeting with Dr. Vaughn tonight. I'd rather he end up in prison for this, but if the only way to keep people safe is to give him the money then I'm prepared to do so."

That didn't surprise Chloe. She'd seen some of his Green Arrow gear up close and personal. He had obviously poured millions into helping others; she had no doubt that he would be willing to spend more if it saved lives.

"What I need you to do is to find out everything that you can about the man – family, friends, places he'd go, things he might be hiding," he told her. "Anything you can get a hold of. I saw what you did with Caldwell's computer the night of the gala, and I need you to do that again."

She would do everything she could to help, but she had to warn him, "Oliver, this isn't like the Caldwell situation. That was extracting information from a computer in which it was stored. You're asking me to access a lot of outside sources."

A look of anxiety flitted across his features. "So you've never hacked into anything larger than that before?"

"No," she admitted hesitantly. "I have. It's just that I kind of thought that my emergency, virtual breaking and entering days were behind me and, while I can certainly get into plenty of places, my system's not really set up to handle something of this scope."

The apprehension left Oliver in a rush, and he smiled at her as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the room. "Don't worry; I've got you covered."

He opened a door at the back of the penthouse that led to a small office. As they entered, he watched Chloe's face as she took in the room's contents. Despite the severity of the situation, he couldn't help but smile at the awe that lit her beautiful face. With a near reverence he watched as she approached the bank of computers and monitors that lined the far wall.

"Oliver, this is…" She couldn't even think of a word.

"Hopefully it's everything you'll require."

She nodded, "And then some."

"Good," he said with satisfaction. Crossing to where she was busily pushing buttons and hitting keys, he reached up and turned her face to his. "Chloe, I need your eyes and ears out there. There's no back up for this; I have to get this right the first time. I need you to be here, keeping an eye on the city for emergencies, police activity, anything that could point to a potential danger that Vaughn is trying to distract me from seeing. I need you to be a kind of watchtower for me."

Chloe's eyes acknowledged the trust he was putting in her, but eased the moment for both of them with a slight smile and a shrug, "Well, it beats being a sidekick."

With a teasing wink and a nod, he was gone. And if her heart was fluttering just the tiniest bit, she told herself it was simply the excitement of the new equipment she was about to explore and nothing to do with the man who'd just left.

* * *

"Watchtower, I'm at the drop."

"Don't expect this codename stuff to stick, Arrow. This is a onetime thing."

"For the third time." Oliver knew that he was goading her, but he needed the brief distraction as he waited behind a large cement column in the parking garage of Star City Towers, watching for Dr. Vaughn's arrival.

Although he didn't doubt his abilities to handle the situation, he had to admit that he felt somewhat naked without his gear. More and more, Oliver Queen was simply becoming a cover for the Green Arrow, and so taking on this kind of situation as merely the businessman left him feeling slightly vulnerable.

And so it meant even more to have a connection to Chloe; her strong and steady voice in his ear, feeding him facts and alerting him to danger. She'd already managed to splice into the garage's surveillance cameras during the time that it took him to drive across town – something that he was going to look into when the current crisis had passed.

Chloe's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. "There he is."

Oliver stepped out from behind the pillar as he watched the short, slightly balding doctor exit the elevator. The man looked around furtively before spotting his target and heading towards him.

"Queen."

One word and already Oliver wanted to pound the doctor's face in. He wanted to believe that his rage was prompted by his quest for justice, but it was more personal than that. The man before him wasn't just threatening people lives – for money – he was doing it with a weapon that he'd used Oliver's company to build. Fury boiled in his veins and as he heard Chloe's voice in his ear, he wondered if it actually showed or if her words were the product of the uncanny intuition he'd seen in her.

"Breathe. He'll pay for this after we make sure everyone is safe. He won't outrun justice; we won't let him."

"Vaughn."

"Did you bring the money?"

"Yes. Did you bring the compound," Oliver countered.

Vaughn reached into his pocket, but instead of the small canister that was used to contain cytotoxin, the doctor pulled out a gun.

"Drop the briefcase," he demanded. As soon as Oliver complied, he swooped down and retrieved it. Keeping the gun leveled on the younger man he gloated, "Nice doing business with you Queen."

"And what," Oliver asked. "You think I'm just going to let you have the money and keep the toxin?"

"Well, seeing as I'm the one with the gun, I think that's exactly what you're going to do." Suddenly his face twisted in rage. "You ruined my life, Queen! I gave my life to my research. Research for your company; and you threw me away like I was so much garbage. This is just a down payment on what you owe me!"

Allowing the other man to believe he had the upper hand, Oliver probed, "A down payment? You think that I'm going to keep giving you money after this?"

Laughter bounced off the concrete walls, and the manic edge to it made Oliver's chest tighten with unease.

"No, this money is to help me, not to punish you. You have too much for me to ever bleed you dry." Clutching the case, he began to back away. "You're a do-gooder just like your parents. The way to hurt you isn't through your checkbook; it's through your conscience."

Before he could move more than three steps back, Oliver was on him. Knocking the gun out of the man's hand with ease, he grabbed him by the lapels and pushed him up against a large SUV.

"Where is it, Vaughn," he asked and shook him slightly. "Where's the canister?"

The laughter was back and even more unstable. "I'll never tell you. You can find out like everyone else – when the nightly news covers the death of dozens of Queen Industry employees."

Oliver was almost shaking with rage. It was his worst nightmare – failing people in need. People that he had sworn to protect. More than that, these were his people, his employees, his responsibility. The thought of them dying; of not helping them in time, was untenable. And just when he thought he might crack and tear the man before him apart to get some answers, he heard a voice in his ear – a lifeline, leading him back from the edge.

"Oliver, I think I know where it is. I've called the police and they're on their way to your location. Security is coming down to hold Vaughn until they arrive. You need to get to the Oakview Research Facility."

Relishing the justification, Oliver's fist met Vaughn's face. As the man crumpled into a heap at his feet, he simply stepped over him, raising his hand to signal the two security officers exiting the elevator.

"The police are on their way. He's dangerous; don't let him out of your sight."

The men, clearly intimidated by seeing the man who was their boss's boss's boss's boss, nodded and took up positions on either side of the unconscious man on the ground.

Oliver was already sliding into his car and leaving the garage in a cloud of burning rubber as he questioned, "I'm betting everything on you, Chloe; are you sure that you have the right place?"

"He said that you'd see the deaths of dozens of your employees on the nightly news. That means that whatever is going to happen will be tonight. Most of your major businesses here in Star City empty out at 5:00 pm except for small shifts or cleaning crews."

He could hear her typing furiously as she detailed what she'd found.

"There are four locations with over twenty four people working right now. Two are warehouses. Large, open buildings where most workers are on the loading docks aren't really conducive to an effective nerve gas attack.

"The other two are research facilities that are running time sensitive experiments that require round the clock observation and attention. They're both high security facilities that require employee specific smart cards to enter."

He heard a pause broken by more furious tapping before she picked up where she'd left off.

"I've run a check of the recorded entries for the past week and they were all done with legitimate Queen Industries identifications."

"But," he asked, knowing that Chloe must have found something to send him careening across town.

"But when I crosschecked the names with the SCPD's records, one of the cards used at the Oakview facility yesterday belonged to a Craig Matheson, who was apparently killed in a mugging four days ago.

"I've deactivated the security protocols so that you can get in, I've alerted emergency services, and set of the fire alarm to start an evacuation."

His lips curled in a smile and Oliver thanked whatever fates were watching over him that Chloe Sullivan was on his side.

"If I get out of this alive I'll take you to La Tra Vigne to celebrate."

"You need to try to remember our "no interaction" agreement. Because if you don't, then when you get out of this alive, we're going to be celebrating with a restraining order."

Despite her acerbic words, he noticed that she had said "when" he got out alive and not "if". The confidence warmed something inside of him in a way that he hadn't felt in far too long. And for a moment he allowed the feeling to swell before pushing it down, knowing that he had to focus on the business at hand.

As he approached Oakview, he saw a small crowd of people standing in the auxiliary parking lot across from the building, waiting for emergency services to arrive and escort them elsewhere. Slamming on the brakes, his car slid to a halt outside of the large, glass entryway. Reaching the doors, he threw them open, the electronic locks being shut off just as Chloe had promised.

Standing by the reception desk was a security guard. Judging him to be hovering near retirement age, Oliver felt bad that the man's minimally demanding job had turned into a nightmare in mere minutes.

"Mr. Queen." The man called out, understandably surprised to see the young billionaire striding into a building being evacuated.

Glancing at the man's badge which read Gerald Richards, Oliver paused briefly. "Richards, the police are on their way, you should get out of here."

The older man straightened his shoulders, rose to his full height and, despite addressing the man who held the ultimate power over his employment, said in a voice that brooked no argument, "We got a call that there's some kind of explosive device here. I don't know why, but I can see that you're going looking for it. I know this building better than anyone, so I'm going with you."

In that moment the steady resolve and unquestionable courage reminded Oliver so much of his father that he could only nod his acquiescence and follow as the man motioned towards a hallway on the left.

"If someone were going to release some kind of gas here, the basement would be the best place because they could get into the ventilation system. Because of the experiments here, the building has an internally recycled ventilation system; introducing something there would guarantee the maximum amount of coverage."

Oliver had to admit that he was thankful for the help. The problem was that although the building had been evacuated, there hadn't been enough time previous to the crisis to study the toxin to discover the effects of gaseous form. He had no real idea if it could escape the building and, if so, how far it would travel or how long it would take to dissipate to harmless levels. The only way to ensure everyone's safety was to get to it before whatever delivery system Vaughn was using, released its payload.

They passed through a heavy door into a stairwell lit with harsh, florescent lights. Richards led them through a series of twists and turns to a door marked, 'Heating/Cooling/Ventilation'. Upon entering it was clear to see that the not so good had, indeed, been there. Flashing red numbers showed a counting down clock that was attached with wires to an all too familiar canister.

"Shit," he cursed as he looked at the device.

"What," two voices questioned and although he looked over at his companion, his answer was for Chloe.

"You were right, this is the place. But the canister's rigged to blow and since this isn't an action flick I'm disinclined to go cutting wires because I feel lucky."

"Thank God," he heard the relief in her voice. "Finally; a sensible hero. Get out your phone and take a picture of the device. Send it to my phone and I'll run it through the FBI database of incendiary devices. My number is–"

"One," he cut her off to point out, "I know your number; and two, you can really get into the FBI database?"

"Now's not the time for twenty questions, Arrow."

As he sent of the pictures she'd requested, a loud cough drew his attention back to the other man.

"Look, I don't want to interrupt what is either your communication with someone via some kind of concealed device, or a stress induce moment of insanity, but maybe we should focus on the matter at hand. Which, being a bomb and all, should probably be our top priority."

Oliver flashed him a smile and assured him, "Don't worry; I've got someone on it."

"Someone good," the worried man asked.

"The best."

"While flattery will get you nowhere with me, it will get you the fed's specs on the type of device you're working with."

"Well, since I'm facing an imminent and incredibly painful death, I'll settle for the consolation prize."

Just then his phone beeped and Oliver pushed the button for his email which brought up a series of specs that showed a device wired in exactly the same fashion from a variety of perspectives.

What had felt like an overwhelming task when he'd first stepped into the room now seemed workable with the details Chloe had provided. Stepping forward he followed the assortment of wires back and forth until he was sure that he had located the one that would disarm the timer. The irony that it was green was not lost on him as he removed a small knife from his pocket.

With a look back at Richards, he told him, "This either works or it doesn't, but your being here won't influence that. You should go while you can."

The older man shook his head and Oliver could see a determination that would not be shaken.

"I may work in a place where the most excitement we have is a bunsen burner mishap needlessly setting off the fire alarm, but that doesn't change the fact that my job is to protect people. I'm not shirking my duty just because the stakes are higher."

If there was one sentiment that Oliver understood, that was it and so, with a nod of acceptance, he turned back to the explosive, took a deep breath, and cut the wire.

"Well," a voice sounded in his ear, but he was too overcome with relief to answer her. "Damn it, Arrow, if you're alive and not answering me I'll kill you myself."

It was the genuine concern in her voice that snapped him out of his haze and he hurried to assure her, "Good. We're good."

Suddenly, a loud beeping filled the air. Turning, he saw another timer light up across the room. But, unlike the canister, the countdown was set for mere seconds and was rapidly approaching zero.

Before he could even formulate a plan, Oliver felt himself shoved with remarkable force, falling forward to land on the other side of the large furnace. Looking up, he watched helplessly as Richards threw himself towards the charge an instant before a small explosion tore through the room.

Small pieces of shrapnel flew past him, nicking his face, but the majority of the deadly debris was blocked by the heavy iron base of the heating system. Static crackled in his ear, but he didn't notice as he scrambled towards the guard's bleeding form. Even as he felt for a pulse, he knew it was hopeless. There was too much damage, too much blood for the man to have survived. His hope was denial in disguise, but he clung to it until to lack of a pulse beneath his fingers forced him to accept the reality that the man who had saved him was dead.

A loud ringing sounded from the floor beside him. He moved mechanically towards the sound, finding his phone wedged beneath some pipes and answering it by rote.

"Oliver?!"

The question was desperate and fear filled, but it hardly penetrated the fog in his head.

"Oliver, please, say something. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he lied in a flat voice. "Mission accomplished; you can head home."

And with that, he hung up, leaving himself with the darkness of the room and the emptiness in his soul.

* * *

Hours later, after endless interviews with countless law enforcement agents, Oliver opened the door to his penthouse. He wasn't sure if he wanted to drink himself into a stupor or sleep himself into oblivion. Probably both.

Letting his blackened and blood stained jacket fall to the floor, he moved towards the bar, only to be stopped by a voice in the dim light of his living room.

"I heard. I'm so sorry."

The sympathy of her words and the compassion in her voice almost undid him because he knew how undeserved they were.

"I failed."

He didn't turn; couldn't face her, but he heard her cross the room to stand at his side.

"Oliver, no. What happened wasn't your fault." With a hand on his arm she pulled him around to face her, almost crying at the anguish she saw in his face.

"Listen to me, Oliver Queen. There are evil people in this world and they do terrible, terrible things. And nothing you do will change that truth." Her voice was filled with conviction as she continued. "But when those people act, when they threaten the lives of the decent and unaware citizenry, you're there, standing between the innocent and those that would destroy them.

"You don't cause this evil, and you do everything in your power to stop it. That matters. _You_ matter. And you can't get so caught up in the lives that are lost that you lose sight of the ones that you saved. And you saved so many tonight."

Finally his eyes met hers and the despair in them tugged at her soul, but it was his words that touched something in the heart she'd tried so hard to hide.

"But that doesn't make it any easier."

Reaching her hand up, she cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb across it in a gentle, soothing motion.

"I know. That's what makes you a hero."

And as he watched her leave, allowing him the privacy he needed to grieve, he felt a minute shift in the weight crushing his chest and wondered if, maybe, it wasn't just a tiny bit easier.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

Also, for the record, I'm changing the order of the JL coming together. Since it was really only referenced once, in passing, on the show, I don't think it makes any kind of difference, but I thought I'd mention it.

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**Chapter Four**

Oliver Queen was a man who knew what he wanted. He hadn't always been; but his life had been full of lessons that he'd finally learned to heed.

Like one man can make a difference. That privilege carries responsibilities. Most importantly, that life came with no guarantees. You couldn't simply sit around and wait for it to arrange itself according to your design. The world was full of endless possibilities, but you had to be open to seeing them and willing to take the risk of reaching out to grab your dreams.

And he had embraced that in all areas of his life – except in matters of the heart.

He surrounded himself with women but that was, in large part, to protect his alter ego. And thought they were undeniably beautiful women, they were generally either too vapid to notice anything strange about him, or too mercenary to question anything that might block the path to his checkbook. Not that he ever kept any of them around for long, but there was no point in taking the chance of pursuing a serious relationship.

But Oliver was honest enough to admit that it was more than that. He still, after all of those years, hadn't really recovered from the death of his parents. And the thought of opening his heart again to that kind of pain evoked more terror that any of the criminals he'd ever faced.

Not that it really seemed to matter, because he'd never actually believed that there was anyone out there that would be able to accept the other part of himself; the one that needed to protect the innocent and cried out to see justice done.

Then he'd met _her_. And for the first time where his heart was involved he knew, without doubt, what he wanted. He wanted Chloe Sullivan.

The thought almost paralyzed him with fear because, for once, he could actually see the potential to have everything with someone. He couldn't even hide behind the Green Arrow because it seemed that she actually preferred dealing with that side of him.

And it wasn't because she was some star struck groupie. She had made it more than clear that she had a personal bubble that extended for miles and she expected him to stay out of it. Yet every time that he went to her in search of aid, she never turned him away. She grumbled and complained and even threatened, once, to tase him, but her commitment to justice rivaled his own and, at the end of the day, she put all of her feelings and frustrations aside and did what was best for the safety of others; people who would never understand that they owed their lives to her selflessness.

Which, of course, made him want her even more. It went without saying that Chloe was appealing, but it was in a way that he'd never experienced before. It wasn't just her beautiful face or the lush curves of her body; it was the way that she glowed from the inside out. Even though she was usually less than accepting of his presence, she still radiated a warmth that filled the space around her and spilled into him. She was like sunlight and he longed to step into the luminous rays and out of the shadows of his lonely existence.

Of course, the irony didn't escape him that when he'd finally found a woman that seemed so perfectly matched to him, she wanted nothing to do with him. Women that were sought after the world over threw themselves at him, but the one that he wanted tried to avoid him at all costs.

While he'd give anything to put an end to the crime and decay in his city, a part of him was glad that at least his mission gave him a justification to search her out that she couldn't deny. In fact, the last time he'd seen her, she'd briefly forgotten her animosity and gave him a smile so dazzling that he'd momentarily considered hiring some people to act as hostages so that he could have days of her company. That plan, however, was immediately dashed when he realized that she'd unravel it within an hour and probably do him an injury from which even all of his training and gear would not protect him.

Chloe Sullivan could be strangely terrifying. And god did it make him want her even more.

Which would have made the fact that he was currently standing on her fire escape somewhat stalkerish except that he genuinely needed her help.

Seeing her inside, curled up on the couch and head bowed as she read, he reached out and gently tapped on the grass. She glanced over at him and the fact that it startled her not at all made him wonder exactly what he would have found in her past had he kept digging.

The rapping at her window made Chloe sigh even before glancing over, because she knew exactly who is would be.

The truth was that she admired Oliver Queen tremendously. What he did, how he helped people, was incredible. Aside from that was also the fact that he was smart, witty, and charming and, on top of all of that, he had a way of making her feel as if she had his full focus when he was with her. That last hadn't happened a great deal before and she knew that it pulled at her as much as his other qualities. Which, of course, was why she avoided the man like the plague.

Chloe was all about being new start girl. Although she missed Clark with an ache that sometimes still drove her to tears, she was pleased and amazed by how much she was enjoying her new life. It was exciting to rediscover all of her dreams…and why she'd dreamt them to begin with.

And she had to admit that, as much as she was loving the newfound dedication to journalism, she was somewhat glad that she had the occasional opportunity to help justice along in ways other than just print. She had felt bad leaving Smallville and knowing that there was work there to be done; Clark to be helped. And so it was satisfying, in a deeply personal way, to be able to protect people with more than just her words. No matter how much she grumbled about it.

In fact, part of her wanted to do more, but she was so scared. Not for her safety, but because she couldn't bear the thought of standing in someone's shadow, of playing a supporting role in her own life again. It wasn't Clark's fault that things had turned out that way. She had taken up that role in his life, so it wasn't unreasonable that he had seen her in that light. But, although it had worked for them in many ways, in the end they'd both ended up miserable. And so, before she could even think about returning to her old life, she needed to learn to balance.

There had been a time when she was younger where everything had been about uncovering the truth. With the naïve fervor of youth, she'd believed that true journalism was about dragging every secret into the light. And then she had made the worst choice of her life…and the greatest.

Her dealings with Lionel Luthor had been the closest she ever hoped to get to Hell. The fear and shame, the pain and regret, and the guilt, so much crushing guilt, had tempered her by fire. It had changed how she saw the world and her impact on it. In retrospect, though, she could see that in her eagerness to change she'd given up too much of herself.

And for the first time in Chloe's life, she felt like she had figured out how to do what was right, and what was right for her.

Of course, none of that made Oliver or his alter ego seem less dangerous to her, on so many levels.

Pushing open the window, she waved him in.

"You might as well come in, because if anyone sees you out there I'm submitting a story entitled "Green Arrow – Hero or Pervert" to explain why Star City's champion is hanging out on my fire escape."

"Well, I would have asked you to meet me for dinner but I thought that, if it came down to it, you'd rather be seen with the Green Arrow than Oliver Queen."

Nodding her head, she confirmed, "Good God, yes. I'd rather it look like I have a story than to be one."

Oliver almost sighed at yet another obstacle to getting closer to the beautiful blond, but shook of the dreary thoughts to get down to the business at hand.

"I –"

"Need my help," she cut in.

Oliver shrugged, "I can't help it if you seem to be the best person at…everything."

Warmth bloomed inside her at his words, but she refused to give it voice. "Then clearly what you need is a bigger team."

"Actually," he smiled, "I'm on it. Funny how much we think alike."

"So you think that you should be getting to the point soon, too," she returned.

"You're always business, Tower."

"One," she told him, "don't call me that. Two, maybe I'm just getting my pleasure quota met in other places."

Oliver frowned at that. He didn't know that she was seeing anyone. Of course, she was hardly spilling out her life story to him, but she helped him out at all hours of the day and night and never complained about broken plans. And, since she complained about everything else, he was pretty certain that she would have mentioned having a boyfriend.

Setting her book on the table and folding the throw that she'd been using, Chloe missed Oliver's dark expression. So his stiff words came as a surprise.

"I'm sorry if the quest for justice has been cutting into your love life."

"Excuse me," she bit out as fury lit her eyes. "I have a life to live, Oliver. And it doesn't begin or end with the things that we do. I won't do that again."

It was the "again" that he didn't think she'd noticed that caught his attention. In their time together, he'd gotten the impression that her move to Star City wasn't simply a relocation, but a fresh start. He didn't know what it was that she was hoping to find or what she'd left behind, but he did know that she was right – he had no right to demand that she not live her life to the fullest. Especially since he knew that it had nothing to do with justice and everything to do with jealousy.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Then it was Chloe's turn to frown. "Well, that was easy."

"I'm always easy for you," he said with a mischievous smile that grew as he was rewarded by her laughter.

"You're a serial dater, Queen. Don't make it sound that I'm in some kind of exclusive club."

The words would have bothered him if he hadn't known she was teasing. She knew better than anyone his need for a cover. He also saw the respect in her eyes for the sacrifices he made, even as she tried to convince him that he could have more in his life than just the Green Arrow; that there was a woman out there that could not just accept, but embrace his work. If only she knew that he was fast becoming convinced that that woman was her.

Watching her slip on her shoes, he realized that he wasn't even going to have to argue much to secure her assistance. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. One the one hand, he was grateful that her guardedness might be waning. On the other, she was stunning when she was irritated – her eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed.

Heading for the window he called out, "I'll meet you outside; the bike's in the alley."

He glanced back, knowing that he'd finally get the stunning picture of her in all her ill-tempered glory. Because, although she knew that it was the most sensible mode of transportation for him, she really hated riding it.

"Always with the damn bike. More money than God and he can't build some kind of super car with super seat belts. It's like he wants…"

He stood outside and listened to her adorable complaining until it was lost to him as the door closed behind her. Quickly pulling out his bow, he shot a line into the building across the alley and lowered himself down. While her ire about his chosen mode of transportation would cool by the time it took her to meet him, if he kept her waiting there then he'd really have a problem on his hands. And, even the Green Arrow wasn't brave enough to take on an incensed Chloe Sullivan.

~*~

Entering the penthouse, Chloe was slightly unnerved by how natural it felt to be there. Setting down her coat and purse, she made her way into the kitchen to start a pot of the amazing coffee that she knew Oliver bought just for her, since she had yet to see him make any on his own.

Returning to the living room, she found him waiting, his leather exchanged for jeans and a deep blue, v-neck sweater.

"So, what's on tonight's agenda?"

"I need a new identity," he said.

"Multi-billionaire superhero not doing it for you anymore," she asked.

"Not for me," he laughed. "It's actually for a new friend of–"

"Hey, Ollie," a voice from the hall called out. "Do you have any organic shampoo? You know that all of those chemicals in the commercial brands go down the drain and then right out into the…Chloe?"

Oliver's head snapped to his guest at the name.

"AC?"

This time his head turned the other way at the recognition he heard.

"Wait, you two know each other?"

"Yeah. We met when I–"

"When I lived in Kansas," this time it was Chloe who cut in.

AC looked over at her. He was surprised to see her there; partially because it was so far from Smallville, but mostly because it was so far from Clark Kent. It had been incredibly clear, even in the short time that he'd been there, how close the two were. They had one of those friendships where a look said more than words ever could, and when one acted the other moved in synch as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Whatever it was that had brought her there, he could see from the shadow that filled her eyes, that it was painful. If she didn't want to make her past public knowledge then he really wasn't one to judge.

"So," he said, trying to ease the tension. "You're Watchtower?"

And the plan worked as he watched Chloe turn and smack Oliver in the chest.

"You told him that stupid name?"

"It's not stupid," Oliver protested. "It's an excellent codename."

"If your twelve and trying to gain entry to the neighborhood tree house!"

"Well, if you wanted something different you should have spoken up before that one stuck," he pointed out.

"It wasn't supposed to stick! It was a onetime thing," she bit back.

"That had already happened twice before. It would have been irresponsible of me not to give you a codename since you insisted on–"

"If you finish that sentence, Queen, I'll dull all your arrows and fray your zip lines."

Oliver fought against the smile fighting to break free. She was absolutely gorgeous in her fury and it was all he could do to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms and funneling all that passion in a new direction.

Chloe could clearly see the humor dancing in the dark eyes gazing back at her. But there was something beneath it; something deep and heated that practically seared into her. Not willing to explore it or examine her reaction, she threw one last glare at the frustrating man, and stomped passed him in search of the coffee that she prayed was done brewing.

After filling one of the extra large mugs, she wandered down the hall to the computer room where Oliver was waiting for her, flipping through a sheath of papers.

Sliding into her chair she asked, "So, what kind of identity are you looking for? Is this a one shot thing or do we need this to hold up for the long haul?"

"I'd like this to be a long term deal," he told her. "AC has both the ability and the desire to help people, and I'd be a fool to turn down an ally. Especially with this new LoraTech situation."

LoraTech was a medical supply company that Chloe had run across when digging up some information for Oliver. It was only on the periphery of her investigation, but something about it struck a chord with her. Unfortunately, the more she dug, the more the mystery grew. She'd found a myriad of dummy corporations and shadowy subsidiaries, and the mere existence of so much misdirection screamed that something suspicious was underway.

Unlike the other issues that they dealt with, the roads that led to LoraTech seemed to stretch across the globe. It had sent Oliver to Japan recently, and she was assuming that was where he'd run into Arthur Curry.

And Chloe had to admit that she was glad that he had. It wasn't that she doubted Oliver in any way. The man was a hero through and through. But she had a very bad feeling about this newest endeavor and it soothed something deep inside her to know that he had someone more than just her watching his back.

Oliver looked up from the file to see the concern swirling in her soft green gaze and knew that it wasn't for the problem at hand, but for him. It was one of a dozen little things about her that gave him hope – the way that she hid her frequent smiles behind her coffee cup during their endless bickering; the gentle touches when she was called on for minor medical duties; how she never left the penthouse, after a night as his Watchtower, without seeing for herself that he was home safe and sound.

Chloe made him feel safe. Not physically protected, but emotionally secure. She made him feel as if he wasn't…alone. And he'd been alone for so very long.

More than that, he could see that, in some ways, she seemed just as lonely. He knew that there was something in her past; something that made her guard her heart so fiercely. But if she thought that he would walk away from her, from what they could have, she was going to learn how mistaken she was. Oliver Queen was nothing if not a fighter. And he couldn't think of anything he'd rather fight for.

~*~

"Come in," Chloe called to AC as he stood in the doorway.

"Oliver said that you needed to see me."

"Yes," she nodded as she began gathering papers. "I have a number of things for you to sign, I need to get a copy of your prints, and Oliver left some clothes for you in that bag so that I could get a few pictures for documents like passports and driver's license."

"Wow; this seems pretty extensive."

Looking up, she caught the somewhat dazed look in his eyes as he grabbed the bag and headed towards his room. She knew that this was happening fairly quickly and asked, "Hey, you okay?"

He thought for a moment before turning back to her and smiling. "Yeah, I am. It's nice to have teammates."

"Mate," Chloe corrected. At his confused expression she clarified, "Team_mate_. Singular. 'Cause, for the record, I'm not playing for the team."

"Weird," he said with a frown as he turned back to the hall, his last words ringing in the air. "I could have sworn Ollie said he was your sidekick."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter Five

**I want to take a minute a really thank everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted/favorite this story. You guys have been incredibly supportive and it's really helped me figure out what's working for a ship that I have no experience with. You guys rock! =)**

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

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**Chapter Five**

The slight squeak of the window opening didn't even cause Chloe to look up from the papers she was reading.

"Wow," a deeply altered voice called out. "Is the thrill already gone for us?"

"What makes you think it was thrilling in the beginning," she questioned, finally looking up to see him removing his glasses and voice distorter.

"You know," he sat down across from her, "If I wasn't a folk hero, billionaire with woman constantly throwing themselves at me, you might dent my ego."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe held out her hand, "What brings you here tonight."

Eyebrows raised, he scowled at the fingers wiggling at him in expectation. "Why do you always expect the worst? Maybe I'm here to see how you're doing; ask how your day was; shoot the breeze."

The fingers stopped wiggling and her hand extended impatiently.

"Or," he said as he pulled a file from his vest and passed it to her, "I could just give you this."

Oliver had to admit that as much as he liked teasing her, this was his favorite part of these visits – watching her as she began to read the papers he brought, first worrying her lower lip with her teeth in concentration, and then the myriad of emotions that passed over her expressive face, from outrage to excitement. Searching for the truth was her element and she glowed with exhilaration.

He thought about closing the small distance between them; tilting her face to his and capturing her lips in a sweet caress. She'd been a reluctant, but more and more frequent, part of his team for the past few months, and in that time he'd grown to want her more than anything he could remember desiring in years. Unfortunately, Chloe carried more baggage than a transcontinental flight to Europe.

There were times when something would happen, would be said, and suddenly her bright smile would dim and he could see pain lurking in her eyes. It made him want to reach for her, to hold her and protect her, but he knew that she hadn't been ready.

So he waited. And waited. And waited. But he could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. When they'd first met she was so guarded and her fear of being hurt was nearly palpable. But in the past few weeks he'd seen her soften. She smiled easily, laughed often, and her acerbic comments had become friendly barbs as opposed to gibes meant to push him away. It gave him hope; and just as he was working up to making some kind of move, giving some kind of sign of his intentions, he saw a dark foreboding settle over her and her eye slid shut almost as if she was in pain.

"Chloe?"

The papers he'd given her were inventory reports on LoraTech, the mysterious corporation which seemed to be ever present just on the edge of most of the trouble he and AC had been dealing with recently. Although he thought that the file would prove helpful in their search for answers, he hadn't expected it to produce this reaction.

"Here," she leaned towards him, holding one of the pages of the pages out for him. "Look at the shipping address halfway down."

"Westerberg-Hummel Inc.?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I may not be able to find much about LoraTech, but I know more than my fair share about LuthorCorp."

Startled brown eyes shot up to clash with worried green. "So LoraTech is connected with LuthorCorp."

"Oh it's worse than that, Oliver. So much worse."

And he could see that it was. There had been a lot of close calls for him and Chloe since they'd been working together, and never once had he seen her like she was at that moment.

"What are we looking at?"

Chloe took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Of all the things that she'd left Smallville to avoid, this wasn't one of them, but it would have been if she'd thought about it. Not because she didn't think it worthy of her time and attention; she did. But because nothing was more likely to pull her back into her old life like the problem at hand.

"Shortly before I moved here I was looking into a LuthorCorp project. Before I could document all of the information, my computer was wiped by Lionel Luthor."

"Personally," he asked in surprise.

"Well, he didn't stand there and rub my hard drive with a magnet. But he was there as it happened, and he took credit in what I'm sure he thought was a subtle way." Shaking off the memory of the encounter, she continued. "I recognize this company. It was listed as a supplier for the project."

"Did you look into it?"

"Yes," she nodded, "briefly. But the LuthorCorp cover up team was operating at defcon 1, and everything was whitewashed by the time I got hold of more information."

Oliver could hear the frustration in her voice. He knew that this hadn't been just another story.

"What was the project?"

Chloe looked up at the man that she knew to be a true hero; who she'd come to admire, consider a friend. And she hated the Pandora's box that she was holding out for him to open. But she also knew that this was Oliver Queen's calling, and that if anyone on earth could stop Lex Luthor's wrongdoings, it would be the man before her. And so she told him.

"Level 33.1."

The words, said with a gravity he wasn't sure he'd ever heard before, sent a small shiver of trepidation down his spine. Except in matters of the heart, Chloe was fearless. There wasn't a story she wouldn't tackle, a villain she wouldn't chase. Hell, she'd tracked him down just to lecture him on being cautious. So while he wasn't a man given to panic, he was smart enough to beware the things that troubled the brave.

While grateful for the time he was giving her to gather her thoughts, Chloe sighed, knowing that she'd need to start from the beginning.

"Level 33.1 is the redux of a project called Level 3. It was a secret venture of LuthorCorp that was housed in Smallville, Kansas, for the purpose of studying a compound unique to the area."

Seeing the curiosity in his eyes, she knew that she was going to have to explain further.

"Smallville was the site of a meteor shower in 1989. The rocks that remained after the initial impact carried a unique kind of radiation. Significant exposure to this radiation, either during the shower or to the rocks at a later date, caused strange mutations in plants, animals, and people."

"Mutations," he asked.

Nodding her head, she shot him a small smile. Whether it was his trust in her, meeting someone like AC, or both, she could see that he was only confirming an unusual fact and not, as most people did, doubting her sanity.

"Yes. Weird things happened in Smallville…a lot of weird things. Most people thought that it was because of LuthorCorp and, in the case of Level 3 they were sometimes correct; but the radiation did things independent of the company, and so the rocks were the genesis of the problems."

"And let me guess," he asked in a weary voice as if he already knew the answer. "You investigated all of this."

"You bet I did," she exclaimed. "I was editor of The Torch. It was a high school paper, but it was still a venue for the truth. I had a duty to cover a story of such magnitude. In fact," she grimaced slightly, "I asked Lex about Level 3 in the first interview I ever had with him, back when I was a freshman."

Oliver didn't like the thought of her having that much contact with Lex Luthor; especially not if it put that look on her face.

"What did he say about it?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But that probably has less to do with a cover up and more to do with the fact that we were interrupted by thieves who could walk through walls and pushed me out of a third story window."

He was gaping at her. He knew it, could feel it, but he didn't know how to stop. He'd wanted to know more about her past, but if this was the kind of memory she could discuss so matter of factly, he was worried that the things she still struggled with might give him an ulcer.

Finally, he found his voice. "I don't even know which part of that statement to address first."

"I suggest we keep our eye on the ball marked 33.1. If we stop to talk about the weird crap that makes up Smallville daily life then we'll be here for hours."

"And when we have those hours free you're going to fill me in on more of this," he informed her.

Waving his concern away she told him, "Believe me, if we're dealing with the Luthors, we aren't going to have any free time for the foreseeable future."

Warmed by the fact that she'd so naturally included herself in the team effort but certain that she wouldn't appreciate him pointing it out, he got back on track.

"So your think that they're doing some kind of experiments with these rocks?"

"Frankly, if their just experimenting with the rocks themselves then it's bad, but not the nightmare that it could be."

Deep down, Oliver knew the answer, but had to ask the question. "And that nightmare would be?"

"They're using the rocks to experiment on people."

Chloe wasn't shocked by the cursing that briefly filled the air. She'd used those words herself more than once during her years dealing with the Luthor family.

"Oliver, you need to understand some things here. The mutations that the meteor rocks cause aren't things like eleven fingers or three eyes. They tend to spark attributes that may be in the cards for human evolution at some point, but are currently beyond comprehension. Things like mind control, invisibility, both pyro and telekenisis."

"Wait, how is it that anyone still lives in that town? How is this not all over the news?"

"Are you kidding," she asked with a cynical laugh. "The only thing Smallville has more of than meteor rocks is denial."

"So they just don't care," his voice was lined with disbelief.

With a small shake of her head, Chloe let go of some of the cynicism that had protected her against the judgmental nature she often encountered after her move from Metropolis as a girl. "You have to understand; Smallville is a farming community. Even people who don't work on the farms have friends and family that do. That land is there life. If they believed in my "wild theories", they risk losing the one thing that's been a constant for generations."

Oliver could only imagine how hard it must have been for a young Chloe, full of enthusiasm for pursuing the truth, to be so continuously dismissed by those she sought to warn. That she would work to understand them, to protect them still, spoke to everything that drew him to her so strongly.

"But something must have been done with those affected."

"Yes," she agreed. "In true Smallville fashion the stupidest thing possible was done – they were institutionalized."

"In a psychiatric facility," he asked in disbelief.

"Belle Reve," she acknowledged.

"How the hell did they contain people with those kinds of abilities?"

Chloe snorted, "They didn't. It was a revolving door for the souped up and psychotic. Honestly," she mused, "I think that may have been one of the ways that Lex justified 33.1 in the beginning."

A shadow passed over Oliver's face, but it was gone quickly as he told here, "You shouldn't give him the benefit of the doubt. It looks like the poisoned fruit fell very close to the diseased tree."

She shook her head, "Look, I'm the first to admit that I won't be applying for membership in the Lex Luthor fan club any time soon. But there was a time when Lex really struggled to rise above the legacy of his name. He wanted to be the guy who made the world better; who people respected…loved.

"He helped me, Oliver. When I had no one to turn to. That Lex, the man he was then, had the potential to walk down this path, but back then he would have needed a reason to take that first step."

"And you think that the reason was wanting to protect people," he asked.

Oliver watched as her eyes shuttered and a part of her closed off as she answered.

"Partially."

He could see that there was more. He could also see that she desperately didn't want to discuss it. And though curiosity was burning through him, he found it easier to let the matter drop than he'd thought he would. He trusted Chloe. Probably more than he'd trusted anyone since his parents died. If she didn't think that he needed to know this secret right now, then he had faith in her judgment.

He also had faith that she'd tell him, eventually. They were getting closer every day and he knew that soon she'd feel safe enough to trust him with her heart. And while the waiting was so hard, so much more than he'd ever done with a woman before, it was worth it. She was worth it. Slowly but surely her eyes were reveling the secrets in her soul, and when he was finally allowed to drown in their depths he knew that it would be the one thing he yearned for with all of his being – home.

Not wanting to pressure her, he stood, saying, "We might as well leave the in depth explanations until we can get AC in on them. Do you think that you could pull together a basic file on the project and what we know so far for a briefing tomorrow?"

Chloe nodded as she, too, rose. Tomorrow was Saturday and, barring a massive newsworthy happening, she was free. Putting together an initial dossier wouldn't be hard, especially with her unfortunate familiarity with the subject.

"I hate to dump even more on you," he told her apologetically, "but I'm hoping you could help me with one more thing. I think I've found someone else who would be a good addition to the team. He's kind of a wreck right now, but I think he'll clean up well."

Smiling, she held out her hand, once again, for what she was sure to be yet another file. "What did you ever do without me?"

The eyes that met hers swirled with an emotion that belied the lightness of his tone, "I have no idea."

He paused, not wanting to give voice to the words he needed to say, but knowing that he had no other choice. He cared too much for her to want her to feel trapped under the weight of the mission he'd made of his life.

"Chloe, I think we both know that this is huge. I don't know what you left behind, and I'm not asking you to tell me before you're ready. But I do know that you've built a new life here for yourself and I can see, quite clearly, how much it means to you. I'd never want to do anything to ruin that. So if this gets to be too hard, too much, I'll understand. I'll always understand."

Slipping the file into her hand, he made his way over to the window. As he prepared to step through, her voice stopped him.

"Oliver…thank you."

"Me," he asked in confusion. "You're the one that I just dumped all of the work on. If anyone owes their thanks here, it's me."

She shook her head, searching for the words. "This…I just never…" Letting out a small sigh, she tried again. "I didn't think I could be a part of something like this again. That it could be different. It means a lot to me."

It was the deepest moment they'd shared and Oliver could only meet her honesty with his own.

"The honor is all mine."

Then he was gone, but the warmth of his words still lingered. And she felt something inside loosen and allow light to spill into a part of her soul that had been shadowed for so long. It was a bittersweet moment as the movement let a little piece of Oliver in while letting a tiny bit of Clark go.

She'd been honest with him. She really hadn't thought that she could ever be a part of this kind of endeavor without losing herself once more. But things had changed. _She_ had changed. The choices she made now added to her life without subtracting from other areas.

When she'd first confronted Oliver as the Green Arrow, she'd told him that there were other stories in Star City besides him and she was more than happy to find that had proven true. Not covering either the business or society beat, she had little reason to write about Star City's successful businessman and eligible bachelor. And, because Queen Industries was a legitimate and honestly run corporation, there was no corruption to investigate.

The most problematic issue was his heroic alter ego. The Green Arrow truly was newsworthy and, technically, a subject covered by her department. However, there were many reporters with seniority over her who were covering the story, and scooping the journalists at your own paper was incredibly poor form. As such, she wasn't expected, in any way, to investigate that particular topic.

In fact, she found it rather funny that at first, while she was getting the lay of the newsscape, she was much safer being seen with the Green Arrow than Oliver Queen. But now, having made her place at the Post, she was actually better off if she were to be seen with him in his businessman persona.

Of course, all of her dealings with both the man and the myth were made easier by the ability to cover his ass that Oliver had honed much more finely than Clark ever had. Although she'd admit that he had the advantage of actually having legitimate reasons to be in many of the places that the Green Arrow was seen. As both a businessman and a much sought after presence on the social circuit, Oliver had access to a myriad of places that Clark, as a small town farmer did not. So when Clark showed up in someone's corporate headquarters or mansion, eyebrows were raised in a way that they wouldn't be were Oliver to arrive there.

And this new part of her life meant the world to her. She had told Clark that she needed to learn to be Chloe again, but a large part of what she'd discovered was that much of the inherent makeup of Chloe Sullivan was a desire to do more than expose injustice, she needed to fight it.

Oliver gave her that chance and she wasn't blind, he wanted to give her much more. She could see in the way that he looked at her that there were feelings fighting to brake free. Sometimes she could feel him about to speak words that would change everything. And as flattered as his interest made her feel, it was his restraint that truly moved her. That he cared about her enough to give her need to heal more significance than his desire to be with her pulled her to him in a way that the most fervent of pursuits would never have.

And for the first time since she'd left Smallville she felt something that had been missing in her life for far too long – hope.

* * *

~*~

* * *

Oliver heard the elevator arrive. Watching as Chloe stepped out, he smiled at the summery picture she painted in a thin, breezy sundress with her blond hair spilling over her shoulders. Stepping forward to great her, he was interrupted as AC and his newest guest entered.

With a bright smile, she moved towards the men.

"Victor," she said as she hugged the man that she'd met briefly in Smallville. He'd been so wounded then and she hurt knowing that those wounds would soon be reopening.

"Chloe," he hugged her back; glad to see a face that he could definitely associate with the good guys. His time in Smallville had been brief, but he'd never forget what Clark Kent did for him. And anyone who knew the man for five minutes understood that meant that Chloe had helped in some way. It was that very fact – the presence of one without the other – that had shocked him so much when AC had mentioned earlier that they worked with a young reporter named Chloe Sullivan.

Looking back and forth as the two people greeted each other with obvious familiarity, Oliver turned to AC.

"Seriously?"

AC just shrugged as he watched Chloe step back and turn towards his boss.

"Victor and I met–"

"When you lived in Kansas," Oliver finished for her.

With a wry smile she gave a shrug that mirrored AC's, but he could see her eyes begging him not to ask. He knew that Victor must have seen the same thing as he, too, offered no further information.

Shaking his head he gave in gracefully and changed the subject. "So, Victor, have you given my offer any thought?"

"Actually, I have," he said as he moved further into the room. "I've been wandering the self pity path for a while now. Maybe it's time to give this hero thing a try."

With a huge smile, Oliver shook Victor's hand as he slapped him on the back. "Good to have you aboard. Now all we need is a codename. I was thinking–"

"No!"

Victor gave a start as two voices rang out in protest. Turning to his new employer he saw the man scowl.

"What? I was just–" Again he was cut off.

"What did we decide about you and codenames, Oliver?"

Bristling at Chloe's chiding tone, he defended, "I give out perfectly good codenames!"

AC's sudden cough sounded suspiciously like it was covering a sarcastic "Aquaman", while Chloe merely arched a brow.

"Look," he glared at the two traitors in his midst. "I was giving out codenames before you even moved to Star City."

With a dismissive wave, Chloe scoffed, "Please; you didn't even choose "Green Arrow". The press did that."

"I was thinking it!"

"Oh, you were not, you big baby."

As the two continued to argued, Victor edged around them, over to AC. Watching as the billionaire was being increasingly worn down by the small reporter he turned to his new teammate. "Wow, you weren't kidding about who's in charge around here."

Knowing that no business would get accomplished for a while, AC decided to make breakfast. Waving the other man along he nodded, adding, "And it's a damn good thing, bro."


	7. Chapter Six

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. You've all been extremely supportive during my NaNoWriMo experience. :) This is short, but I didn't want to squeeze it into the next chapter. Also, I posted chapter 5 a few days ago, so if you missed it, you'll want to catch up because of all that annoying plot stuff. lol**

**A/N One:** This story supposes that Oliver never showed up on Smallville. The episode picks up at Hydro and then I go my own way.

**Two:** This is what I'm working on for National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality and discourages extensive editing. As such, this story has been looked over once and that's it. I'm not promising any kind of quality in this story – not great dialogue, a firm grasp of characters, decent continuity, etc. - **so read at your own risk.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really not like your codename?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, even though she knew that the large man sprawled behind her on her couch wouldn't see it.

"Oliver, I'm 5' 4". 'Tower' isn't a codename; it's irony."

Relieved by the silence, Chloe returned to the article that was due on her editor's desk in the morning. If she could just–

"But I worked hard on the names for you and AC."

"I know," she told him patiently. "And that's why we've kept them; because it means something to us that you put forth that effort."

"Really?"

His voice had perked up and Chloe was hopeful that his emotional trauma had been averted and she could return to work. "Really."

Her fingers inched forward to touch the keys of her computer.

"But you guys wouldn't let me name Victor."

Whining. The man who made criminals tremble was whining.

"Well, no. With Victor we had a chance to close the barn door _before_ that particular horse got free."

He was quiet, but Chloe wouldn't fall for the lull again.

"But he named himself Cyborg! How is that creative?"

She wondered if it was remotely possible that he could be serious. "This from the person who literally named AC 'Water Man'."

"It has foreign flare!"

Idly Chloe considered if she could somehow keep her job if she gave The Post a jail cell interview concerning her murdering of Oliver Queen.

"Don't you miss the wide open spaces of your penthouse, Oliver?"

"AC's gone to the beach, and Victor's looking over possible upgrades with some R&D people."

"And?"

"And it's too early to patrol."

…

"And?"

"And I'm bored."

Chloe counted to three because she knew if she tried for ten he'd use the extra seven seconds to wear her patience even thinner. Finally she bit out, "Get a dog."

And at last he was quiet. But she could feel his contemplative air and didn't bother to even think about resuming her work so that he wouldn't have to forgo good manners to interrupt her.

"You'd want to take care of a dog?"

…

"Good point."

And it was, because she was sure that, within a week, the dog would be camped on her couch most days. Assuming whichever man occupying it at the time could be dislodged. Thousands of square feet of home in the most exclusive building in Star City and they'd all opted for a rotating schedule of time on her secondhand sofa.

So, no, there would be no dogs. As it was she'd been forced to relocate to the coffee table in front of the couch because, really, it didn't matter how much control she had over the team, getting a guy to give up either the sofa or the remote were things she knew better than to waste her time with.

"I didn't mean to come here and keep you from working though," he told her, his voice serious for the first time that evening. "It's just that…even with the guys around, I guess I'm kind of lonely."

Leaning her head back on the cushion, she turned towards him. She hadn't realized how close they were as mere inches separated her face from his. The endless depths of his darks eyes drew her in as the very air around them seemed to still.

"Sometimes it's more than just kind of," he whispered into the hush. "And you make it better."

Neither knew who moved, but it didn't matter as the distance between them melted away. With gentle movements and soft touches, their lips met.

Love had never been kind to Chloe Sullivan. She'd built a castle of dreams upon it only to learn it was the shakiest of foundations. It had made lows of her highs, defeats of her victories, and sorrows of her joys. The truth was, she was less than impressed with the entire phenomenon.

Yet, with Oliver's lips moving softly over hers, she began to feel something other than the constant dread that had been her heart's companion. And she allowed herself to open, however slightly, to the possibility that maybe love wasn't actually the culprit in her many woes. Maybe the problem was simply the choices she made because of it and the expectations she carried.

Suddenly every painful memory of love flashed before her; every bump and bruise her heart had taken washed over her, and Chloe knew that she was standing at a crossroads in her life. Because if there was one thing coming to Star City had taught her, it was that her life wasn't a set role she was destined to play out. _She_ chose the path she walked on.

And as it was for her future, so it was with her past. Whatever had happened with her family and friends, her allies and enemies, it wasn't the situations that shaped her, but what she decided to take from them; what pieces she wanted to hold until they merged into her reality.

She could look back at working with Lionel and believe herself a fool, or she could see herself as a young woman who stood up and righted the wrong she had done. She could think of her relationship with Lana as time squandered on a friendship that could never fully flourish, or she could accept the fact that the girl who had, for a time, been her sister had helped her to learn to see beyond her big city prejudice, just the way that she'd always wanted the people of Smallville to see past those of a small town. And Clark…

Chloe knew that she could either fixate on the fact that her love was something he'd never wanted to have, or she could embrace the belief that her time with Clark had shown her the amazing depth of love she had inside to give.

It wasn't easy; wouldn't happen overnight. But she was finally ready to choose. And as she felt the reverence in the lips against hers, she made her choice – to start to let go of the pain, to begin to free herself from the grasp of painful yesterdays. She was tired of sacrificing herself on the altar of the past, and she cared far too deeply for Oliver to let him suffer for the wounds she was ready to let time heal.

At the first touch of their lips, Oliver knew that he was out of what he would have considered, given his experience with women, his considerable depth. It wasn't simply the exquisite feeling of her mouth moving against his own, or presence of her sweet breath against his cheek. All of that was perfect; drove his need higher than anything he'd ever experience. But it was more with Chloe. It was…everything.

Feeling a small tug in his chest, he half wondered if maybe, after all the waiting, the reality was simply too much for his heart. And then the pressure shifted, grew, and he realized that it wasn't physical at all. That feeling was …feeling. It was emotion. It was a swelling of pleasure, but not of any kind that he could name or even recognize.

His dealings with women had always been more cursory in nature. He shared his body, but never his heart. It was a mutually beneficial relationship where pleasure was transitory; found during brief interludes, but never to linger. It was a momentary distraction from the persistent ache of loneliness he carried, and he never felt tempted to make it more, nor did he guilty for what he couldn't give. He chose his partners carefully, and any disappointment they felt at the end of their encounter sprung solely from losing the name of Oliver Queen, and not the man.

But what he felt in that moment, lost in a caress born of a desire that moved beyond the flesh, warmed something so deep inside him that he hadn't know it existed; began to heal something he hadn't understood was injured. And he knew, without doubt, that when they finally drew apart, if she told him that it was wrong, looked at him with shuttered eyes and a guarded heart, that he'd fracture in a way that the years of emotional deprivation had not yet done. Because his heart was fragile, too, and he knew that she could break it with a word.

A soft sigh whispered against his skin and he remembered every reason that made it all worth the risk. The heights to which she could lift him were far from his stoic life on the ground, but he believed she wouldn't let him fall. He had to; it was why he had let her make a place in his heart.

Slowly, they parted. Silence filled the space where passion had flared and Oliver opened his eyes to look into the green gaze below. The soft, mossy depths revealed so many things as the shadows of her emotions ebbed and flowed, and he forced himself to be the one to step forward, to stand under the sword and trust that she wouldn't let it cleave him.

"Are you going to make me apologize," he asked softly as she moved back and his breath caught as he waited, watching her wide, serious eyes.

"Yes," she nodded slowly. "Now I'll never be able to focus on my article."

The breath he'd been holding left him in a rush at her words and the soft smile that accompanied them. She looked slightly dazed, and he knew that it was most likely reflected on his face. For two people so prepared for the worst, the best could be overwhelming simply for the lack of expectation. And as blissful as the moment had been, he knew that they both needed some time to assimilate the fact that they'd been – however briefly – happy, and the world had failed to end.

"Maybe I should start patrol a little early tonight."

"Crime waits for no man," she agreed.

The smile on his face was goofy as he made his way to the door. He knew it; could feel it in the tilt of his lips and the giddiness in his chest. It went against every preconceived notion of himself that he'd fostered in people for years. But his feelings weren't a liability and his happiness was not a potential weapon. Not when he shared them with her. Because she might not trust in herself yet, but he knew that there was no placer safer for his heart than in Chloe Sullivan's care.


End file.
